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1911 
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Mlow the Gleam 



Mary Mc Arthur T. Tuttle 



COPYRIGHTED BY 

MARY McA. T. TUTTLE 

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PREFACE. 



I dedicate this study in Romance to my dear teacher. Miss 
Mattie Mather. 

Since George Meredith wrote his "Celt and Saxon," I have 
put a new value upon my little Welsh story, because of the 
fact that Meredith made the Welsh woman to resemble charm- 
ing witches ; while my good fortune in knowing several repre- 
sentative ones, enables me to present them in a different light. 

M. McA. T. 

January, 1911. 

WRITINGS OF MARY McARTHUR TUTTLE. 

Follow the Gleam 1911 

Mary McArthur Tuttle. 

Types of Men and Women (A Study in Ideality) 

Mary McArthur Tuttle 1907-8 

Autobiography and Correspondence of : Gov. Allen 
Trimble; Published by the Old Northwest Gen- 
ealogical Society, Columbus, Ohio; edited by 
Mary McArthur futtle 1907-8. 

Life of William Allen Trimble, U. S. Senator and 

Lieut.-Colonel U. S. A 1905 

First Two Chapters in ''Crusade Sketches and Family 

Records," 1895 

Jennings & Graham, Cincinnati, Ohio. 

The Mother of an Emperor ^8^^, 

Jennings & Pye, Cincinnati, Ohio. 

Historical Chart of the Schools of Painting 1892 

Andrews & Church, Ithaca, New York. 

Correspondence addressed to Professor and Mrs. Tut- 
tle, by people of distinction, in the literary, edu- 
cational and political world; edited by Mary 
McArthur Tuttle 1910-11. 

1 



Six Lectures on Color: — I. Color theoretically and 
practically considered; II. Color applied to In- 
terior Decoration; III. Color applied to Exterior 
Decoration ; IV. Color applied to Pictorial Art ; 
V. Color applied to Industrial Art; VI. Color 
applied to Dress or Costume, 1896 

Six Articles on Artists as Exponents of Political and 

Religious Thought 189 

Western Christian Advocate. 

CONTENTS. 
Part I. 

Chapter I. Pension Office at Chelsea. 

Chapter II. ''Nothing but the picturesque old Cathedral City." 

Chapter III. "Across the mighty deep." 

Chapter IV. "The Steamer Normania." 

Chapter V. "Monotonous plank walk." 

Chapter VI. "Look facts in the face." 

Chapter VII. A sensible girl always ready to accept an ex- 
planation." 

Chapter VIII. "That great throbbing metropolis." 

Chapter IX. "The quaint piece worked by a back relative." 

Chapter X. "The Grange in Yorkshire." 

Part II. 

Chapter XI. " 'You are Celtic/ said he." 

Chapter XII. "Outburst of long pent up thoughts." 

* *:j£hapter XIII. Charles Van Cortlandt. 

* •* 

Chapter XIV. "A gentleman of plentiful fortune." 

"FOLLOW THE GLEAM." 

"Glory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, to right the wrong — 
Nay, but she aim'd not at glory. No lover of glory she : 
Give her the glory of going on, and still to be." 

— Tennyson. 






Chapter I. 

The water suggested a veritable sea of emeralds upon which 
a sudden shower of diamonds had fallen. Gaynore did not 
observe for her mind was very weary, how the sky looked, for 
the range of her vision took in only what was immediately 
before her. It was a solemn Sunday, that she knew ; and 
her conscience reminded her that it was the first time in her 
life that she had broken down her convictions about Sunday 
travel ; Welsh hymns in which death as an Enlarger, not as a 
Destroyer, but the messenger who brings us out of the nar- 
row bounds into a wider freedom of a higher, nobler exist- 
ence, came to her as she travelled this weary journey alone. 
Surely the dead are not far from us after all; they and I 
alike are in the hand of God, and although we cannot see 
them with our bodily eyes, they may be very close to us. Then 
it will grieve the one who has gone before out of the shadow 
of our night into the fulness of the perfect day, if I take no 
comfort in this life any more. Surely love, which is the high- 
est and best of our blessings here on earth, will only be puri- 
fied, not lost, in the Heavenly Kingdom ; but then I have it all 
to battle through in silence. When next I visit Wales, of 
which there is no likelihood, I shall afterward chiefly stay in 
London, even if my friend goes to India. She and I are 
bent on different errands. I can spoil Judith, my little two- 
and-a-half year niece — fascinating little creature in her little 
gray coat and hood, edged with brown fur, which sets off her 
gold curls and blue eyes to perfection — Ah! the thought of 
her is the first idea which has lessened the tension on my 
heart strings, this livelong day. And then I will go hard to 
work in the Pension Office at Chelsea and that will help me 
too. In the winter there is so much extra looking after. I 
shall try to have a pleasant Christmas in spite of the gales. 

These were thoughts filling the mind of Gaynore De Morois 
during this long Sunday Sojourn. Toward the close she 
became dumb, as it were, with all aspirations and inspiration3 
lost, and when she reached her destination there was a con- 
scious and aching unrest after a lost hope — and a more than 
that— 

Chapter II. 

"You tell me you saw nothing of my country save its pic- 
turesue old Cathedral City. You may not know the tribe from 
whence I came were at one time sullen vassals, until a Tudor 



sprang from our Welsh Knight and all was changed. Yet, 
we have, that is, I mean our particular family, has much of 
the Celtic pugnacity which was the very thing which caused, 
as you will of course remember, the early tribes to struggle in 
the mountains for their rights." 

He laughed outright and said: *'You presume upon my 
knowledge. All I know of Welsh History is, that Oliver 
Cromwell routed the Welsh insurgents and left their castles 
in ruins while he proceeded to march against the 'Scots.' 
These are the words of history, verbatim, I believe, which I 
learned long ago." 

**Whom are you instructing, Gaynore?" called out her 
uncle, from the adjoining room. The truth was he was great- 
ly pleased over all that his clever young niece had said and 
hoped heartily that she was receiving a call from a young 
American friend of hers for whom the uncle — a poet — had 
a great liking. 

"Ah, I did not know you overheard us, uncle," said Gay- 
nore, blushing, "but as you have, I shall continue to finish what 
I was about to say." 

"You know I cannot withstand the invasion of the Anglo- 
Saxon — my heart is entirely his — I fear I pay tribute to his 
superiority. I feel a homage before his talent." 

"When I return I shall hunt him up and write to you, if 
you will permit me, what I think of him," said her friend. 
"Where did you say he is now?" 

Inattentive to this inquiry, apparently, Gaynore went on : 
"He is very Saxon. It is the fault of his relatives that he left 
his country. They should have counselled with him other- 
wise. They are people who believe in the laissez-faire course. 
So I must not complain even if my heart breaks. Aunt and 
I are going to old Chester for a few days before we try that 
trip on the choppy North Sea. But what satisfaction will there 
be for me in prominading around the old walls about two 
miles in circuit, or to see the projecting galleries under which 
, we so often sat together. My heart is not now there, but 
',oVer the sea." 

"Perhaps I can persuade Miss Baxter to take you and 
cross the Atlantic when I do. I should so much enjoy showing 
you both some of our country." 

"What a clever idea," exclaimed Gaynore, "Urge her to take 
it just as soon as this Semester closes ; to shut up the classic 
halls for once and gave herself a life on the ocean wave." 

"Ah, it will do auntie worlds of good and as for myself, 
I should be too happy to live." 



"Uncle," she cried out, "Uncle clear, wont you please leave 
your poetry just for a minute and come here!" The library 
door responded to the request and opened wide as a tall hand- 
some man, with iron gray hair, dark blue eyes and thin lips, 
appeared. 

"And what is so urgent?" With pen still in hand he bowed 
to the young American friend whom they all as a family 
had learned to like and who had travelled enough in Wales 
to be somewhat familiar with the country. Afraid to intro- 
duce the subject of the trip to America at once, Mr. Winslow 
said : "How delightfully recluse and peaceful you Welsh peo- 
ple are." 

"Yes," said the poet, "but we have not escaped the com- 
mon lot of humanity — disappointments, frustrated hopes, be- 
reavement, death — nor have we escaped the 'tedium of ex- 
istence' as the English writers express it ; but all must, can 
be borne, if one escapes penury, hunger and despair. I have 
just finished a poem including these thoughts and therefore 
I have not heard what you and Gaynore were saying, since 
she discoursed so nobly on our Celtic tribes and their strug- 
gles in the mountains. What is it, my child, that you wish 
now to say." 



That I certainly understand, dear aunt," said Gaynore, 
the next day, to Miss Baxter. "Have I not sat at the feet of 
your brother, my respected uncle, and watched him bring 
out his poetic thoughts and admired you in your daily mini- 
strations of knowledge to the young until I have become 
anxious to make a life for myself? Back relatives build up 
splendid walls for vines to grow upon; yet the wild rose 
seems to search for the brier fence. I know that I, like the 
wild rose, have thorns, yet auntie you know 'the heart of me' 
is good." 

"If your uncle had heard as often as I have, your avowals 
of devotion to your friend over the sea, possibly he would 
help me to plan something which will enable you to overcome 
this restlessness. I shall talk with him about a trip to Amer- 
ica for both of us now that Mr. Winslow purposes aiding 
our plans. I fancy I shall derive great benefit, for I should 
like to compare their institutions of learning with ours ; their 
methods, I mean; and for you, Gaynore, it would be indeed 
charming at your age." 



Chapter III. 

Afar off across the mighty deep where the oranges grow 
and the pahns are tempered by the sea breeze — on a Septem- 
ber afternoon, a young man resembhng the Saxon of the 
fifth or sixth century, stalwart, flaxen hair, blue eyes — 
lay dreaming the hours away. It was not his wont — for he 
was a student of Nature — but somehow he was thinking of 
the old Monastery of which he had read in his youth which 
stood on the very site of the Chester Cathedral. He had been 
asked to come to America and tutor boys in the German lan- 
guage — a happy occupation and one which had given him his 
bread and butter and considerable contentment. But at this 
particular moment a fierce conflict was tormenting him, which 
increased upon him like a heat from a tropical sun. Had 
it not been for this the environment would indeed have been 
fascinating to him. This uncomfortable companion, a bad 
conscience, had followed him all the way from the east, and 
went with him wherever he found himself, even in his busiest 
moments. Somehow it had been wrong. He should have 
fulfilled the promise made to Gaynore and her aunt, to await 
their arrival ; but for selfish reasons he had fled with it un- 
fulfilled ; and this he was laying upon "circumstances over 
which he had no control." A good pack horse for all such 
worries. 

Chapter IV. 

While the steamer Normania lay in quarantine in the New 
York Harbor, there was assembled on a certain veranda be- 
longing to a fashionable hotel overlooking Long Island Sound, 
a group of gentle folks, men and women. They were dressed 
in the conventional costume of the season ; the women wore 
blue serge skirts and ''blazers," scarlet, pink and blue waists ; 
the men wore flannel shirts and dark trousers, while bright 
cravats, even orange hues, gleamed out in the broad sun- 
light. It was the hour for the morning papers and the im- 
pressions which different ones seemed to get concerning the 
cholera was alarming, or quieting, according to the particular 
newspaper which he or she read. 

The woodbine swayed to and fro and twined its red, pur- 
ple and yellow leaves toward the sun, as if it said : ''Warm 
me with your powerful rays yet awhile longer and then I 
shall disappear. An elderly, handsome man presumed to en- 
tertain the group by telling marvelous stories of the cholera 



of 1832, through which he had lived in a southern State, 
when a terrible panic existed amongst the colored people. As 
the daughter of this elderly, courtly gentleman had heard this 
recital from her father innumerable times before, she es- 
caped his notice and went quietly into the large drawing room 
where she continued to remain quiet, lost "in meditations 
sweet," while her father kept up the entertainment on the 
veranda. Minnie Bowman enjoyed being alone to as great an 
extent as any girl we have ever known. But her solitude 
never lasted very long, as she was very attractive, and this 
time her friend, Agnes May, came bounding in to torment 
her as usual. 

"Ah, Min," said she, "What are you sitting here in this stu- 
pid, ugly old room for? Do you not hear from afar a full, 
splendid baritone voice? Aha! And 1 have found out who 
he is — a young German staying here for a short time with 
those people who came over from New York on the last train." 

"The last boat, you mean, I suppose," said Minnie, as her 
b-autiful cheeks took on an added glow of color. 

"Be still," said she. "Give me a chance to listen; that's a 
voice that stirs one's soul." 

"Ah! pshaw. I didn't ask you to be so ardent! You're 
a curious — no, a darling coquette," said Agnes, as she put 
her arms lovingly around her young friend. 

"I'm nothing," said Minnie, "but a superficial American 
girl, reared in the South, but come, as you know, of people 
of 'gentle birth.' " 

"And still farther," said Agnes, "in order to complete your 
description, extremely proud of your pretty face and fine 
figure, and elegant toilets, Now come! Let us walk around 
toward the music room and see if we can manage to meet 
those New Yorkers." 

"I suspect," said Minnie, "They're just about leaving; that's 
generally the way at these summer resorts. When you see 
people really worth knowing, they are the ones." 

"Be quiet," exclaimed Agnes, as they actually reached the 
end of the music room from whence the sound of this fine 
voice came. 

"Ah !" said the singer, rising abruptly — 

"But wont you continue?" asked Agnes May, in her most 
beseeching maner. "I have just brought my friend. Miss 
Bowman, in to hear you." 

"Very gracious," said the young Saxon, as he bowed low. 
"I regret it extremely; but I was only putting in my time 



while waiting for the porter to fetch my satchel. My friends 
are taking me with them this very moment." He bowed 
again politely as he rushed on through the corridor with the 
fashionable New York people. 

Chapter V. 

"Nothing left for us, but to walk with father along the 
monotonous planks which border the sea," said Minnie Bow- 
man. "I hate a life like this — no object — simply spending 
the days without any sense." 

"Come ! Mr. Bowman," said Agnes May, "Come ! Let us 
go walking on the plank walk ; Minnie is in a bad humor." 

"What's the matter now?" inquired the indulgent father. 

"I'm so tired out," said Minnie, "with these lazy seaside 
resorts. I want to know something of more serious life than 
the fashionable world furnishes. They say one can find that 
at institutions of learning. Didn't you tell me your friends 
in CaHfornia invited you or us to make them a visit? I wish 
we were going to start this very hour." 

"I'm afraid you are a spoiled child — but places and money 
all as you say. Now that your mother is not here to enjoy 
life with us, I shall also have to be looking up something to 
interest me." 

"But mother will go to California with us undoubtedly," 
said Minnie ; "especially if we go to M " 

A few weeks later Senator Bowman, wife and daughter, 
were traveling toward California. He had tarried long 
enough in his native State to talk over the political situation 
with some of his constituents and satisfied himself that there 
was no longer a chance for so old a man as himself to take part 
in the arena. Out in California he found a number of old 
Washington friends with whom he spent most of his time 
discussing the vital issues of the day. He was proud of his 
handsome wife and daughter; and rather boastful of his 
wealth; and glad indeed to contribute large sums to the In- 
stitutions. George Felix Lawson, Ph. D., a man who em- 
bodied the results of much hard study, who had been so 
curious to see America, to experience something of life in 
the new world, and who had accepted a call for work offered 
him which seemed in a measure consistent with his dignity — 
(at least for the time being) became acquainted with Senator 
and Mrs. Bowman and their beautiful daughter. Mr. Lawson 
had the same curiosity which all foreigners have, in meeting 
the gay, fashionable, rich American girl, yet of course, his 

8 



true affections were wholly with his Celtic sweetheart whom 
he had known from her very childhood. For the present mo- 
ment, however, it was very pleasant to talk to Miss Bowman. 
At the various receptions he entered into conversation with 
her as a student would lookover a new book — its title page, 
its author, its preface, its opening remarks, its Hterary 
style, and finally its real contents and significance. A new 
face; a new book; a new country; had always had a fasci- 
nation for him. He entered into conversation earnestly, in- 
dustriously, with the (not wholly unworthy idea) of really 
learning something of the American girl's mind. They first 
struck Architecture as an impersonal theme. Miss Bowman 
remarking that the Moorish style— the low, one-storied build- 
ings connected by continuous covered passage had attracted 
her at the World's Fair, more than any other, and that she 
hoped some day, to go to the countries where this style origi- 
nated." 

'*We see very little of that sort in the North of Europe 
said Mr. Lawson. My own preference is for the Gothic, but 
that may be because I associate the Cathedrals with the great, 
old walls and ivys and the peculiar structure of windows and 
doors. The Norrnan style or as Mr. Freeman always calls it 
the Romanesque, is also interesting especially in the North of 
Italy." ^ 

''Which one of these foreign universities was your Alma 
Mater?" 

"One that had plenty of absurdities and evils as well as 
great advantages," said he laughing. 

*T do not quite understand how you can settle down here 
although I find it fascinating, and should quite like to take 

up my abode at Hall, in that event papa and mama 

would stay with their friends, the Sampsons at ." 

"And what pray would you study?" quickly enjoined Mr. 
Lawson. "Does the American girl when left to her own free 
will investigate, or invent, or philosophize best?" 

"I'm sure, I do not know, but I, myself should like to take 
an advanced degree in something quite unusual, something 
for instance like Celtic folk-lore" — and she put her very 
prettiest expression of countenance upon Mr. Lawson and 
laughed aloud while he blushed immensely — for he was in- 
deed puzzled, and began to suspect that the secret of his life 
in relation to Gaynore, was known to those about him. But 
he commanded himself and said in rather an unusually ani- 
mated voice : "But in that event you would but go to England 
and study the language and literature with Professor ." 



Somehow when Mr. Lawson went to his room late that 
afternoon such reflections as the following were possessing 
him. **How vicarious the American girl is ; and they have 
beauty and wealth besides. What a dignified demeanor and 
countenance — a real beauty ! Splendid pose of head — ruddy, 
delightful color — such superb toilets, but — like most, of the 
American girls I have met, she talks too much." 
Yet the vision beautiful somehow, continued for many hours 
to shut out the recollections of the quarantined ''Normania." 

CHAPTER VI. 

It was one of the dreariest afternoons in quarantine — the 
nerves of the imprisioned passengers were becoming unre- 
liable and all resources to keep up heart were failing. No one 
felt more exhausted than Gaynore De Morois. She wrapped 
herself in her snowdon shawl and looked the picture of "Hope 
deferred" and the "heart sick." 

"If it were not for my confidence" said she to her aunt, "that 
I should see him the moment we go ashore, I could bear up no 
longer." 

"I do not intend to discourage you Gaynore but only to pre- 
pare you for a disappointment if it should come — Men are 
not like women they are impatient — do not be too confident. 
What if he grew impatient waiting, and has gone off for a 
few hours or days — ." 

"That is all tantalizing — I have his word for it." 

"Yes, but you seem to forget how delayed we are, and how 
warm, it may be, waiting in New York, and also how expen- 
sive. He would be equal to a Knight of the Grail celebrity, 
like the prince who made his bed near the cave where his love 
was imprisioned — if he were to wait in the hot city all of these 
extra days when his vacation is so short and his duties ar- 
duous. If ever this steamer lands, I, for one, shall forgive 
him for going oflf," said Miss Baxter. 

"That is nothing but pious twaddle, my respected aunt. 
Do not vex me again with such reflections." 

"I know my dear, this is the most wearing of experiences. 
But to return to your friend you must look facts in the face. 
He is only a friend. He has never addressed you Gaynore, 
has he?" Miss Baxter had all her Hfe been accustomed to put- 
ting the severest questions to others in instructing in the higher 
branches of Mathematics and awaiting prompt and exact re- 
plies. Many a girl would have refused to answer the abrupt 
suggestions ; but Gaynore was made of splendid stuff and the 
warp and woof of her nature were firm. 

10 



*'We are the best and truest of friends : and I should as soon 
think of forgetting myself, as that he should forget me." 

There was a rush on deck at that very moment, and a doc- 
tor stood in the midst waving a telegram. The roar of voices 
and confusion was terrible, and the scene on shore was a piti- 
able one — fishermen and oystermen whetting their knives on 
their boots, threatening to cut the ropes of the vessel "if she 
dare land." 

Chapter VII. 

George Felix Lawson found himself a few days previous 
to this growing intolerably impatient in hot New York, so he 
took a train for Long Island where some of his New York 
friends were going for a few hours and who sympathized with 
him in this hard experience. For the talk every where was 
of the Normania, and he found no relief in the topic of con- 
versation. 

"We're going to the Mountains from Long Island, said his 
friends. You cannot go to California such weather as this. 
Come with us, and write to your friends how it is. They'll 
get the letter as soon as they land." 

He reflected. He reasoned with himself that Gaynore De 
Morois was a sensible girl, always ready to accept an explan- 
ation ; and he really could do no good for her or for her aunt, 
by getting the cholera in New York or coming down with 
nervous urostration at Long Island. His letter would set it all 
right. But to accompany his friends to the Mountains, that 
he could not — he must and would start immediately for Cali- 
fornia for his bank account only permitted him to do that very 
thing, unless indeed for Gaynore's sake, he might have im- 
posed upon it, and remained a few more days in New York. 
Now he must go to work — come what might — so back to Cal- 
ifornia. 

When he actually found himself there, he was "worried". 
Disturbed by the fact that he did not accomplish what he went 
East for, had spent his hard earned money in vain — and pos- 
sibly had not acted a very noble part. At least there had 
been no self-sacrifice in it — he had run away from the cholera ; 
run away from Gaynore; sought refuge at Long Island, hur- 
ried on to California to bury himself in his work, and all of 
this, he had consoled himself by calling it "force of circum- 
stances." Fee ! faw ! f um ! said he to himself, as he at- 
tempted to cut the leaves of a book while waiting for Eastern 
mail to come in. 

11 



To relate a solemn fact, that Eastern mail came in and 
went out for two long, weary weeks bringing not a word to 
George Felix Lawson. 

Chapter VIII. 

As Charles Van Cortlandt, or ''Elfin," as his college 
chums had always called him — "born of noble state and muckle 
worship in his native land" — was walking leisurely one day 
arm in arm with Felix Lawson, they heard lively voices in 
the distance. 

"Only think of it," exclaimed one, "London claims 75,000 
acres and a population of 5,000,000. What a difference be- 
tween this solitary place and that great throbbing metropolis. 
How can he tolerate it?" 

"Hush!" cried Felix to his companion, "I hear Gay- 
nore's voice" — he sprang backward pulling his arm from that 
of his friend, "Can it be !" he exclaimed, as he took both of 
Miss Baxter's hands in his. and reached to clasp Gaynore's 
blushing as he did so, like a genuine Saxon. 

"Then my letter of explanation has really been accepted and 
you have come !" 

"Only an hour ago," replied Miss Baxter "We paid our 
respects to the Dean of the University at once — and this after- 
noon 1 must rest — but you can show Gaynore the place and in- 
troduce her to your friends. She also is very tired. What dis- 
tances ! What a journey !" 

Chapter IX. 

"Can it be possible," said Mr. Lawson, as he talKed with his 
friend that afternoon, that your aunt will only remain another 
day here after coming so far? It seems incredible. Yet how 
utterly selfish I am," exclaimed Lawson, "to imagine a woman 
like Miss Baxter, who has been at the head of large affairs so 
many years, to tarry here, and to ask a girl like yourself, Gay- 
nore, accustomed to London, to try to become interested in a 
life which is wholly extraneous even to me. What could 
a young woman like yourself do to content herself, or to — " 

"Arrange her rooms" I suppose, said Gaynore, "as to the 
rest do, and let them look like a rambler's as mine usually do, 
no matter where I am. Send my three pieces of furniture — 
the chair which looks as if it were made out of black beads, 
the corner cupboard inlaid, and the quaint old table with foot- 
stool attached, upon which the embroidered piece worked, by 
some back ancestress still remains." 

12 



"How naive. What touches of sensibility. What unaffected 
simplicity still possess you Gaynore, amidst the appalling ten- 
dencies of the age." ''But," continued Lawson, laughing in 
rather a questionable mood — "Your heirlooms would be as 
much out of place here as Cleopatra's Needle is in this country. 
Corner cupboards, are not so useful to a student as book 
shelves." 

"But first the cupboard and then the shelves, else a cavern- 
ous darkness and disenchantment with the books. 
Men must have the cupboard and have it well kept, much be- 
side the china eminating from it. As to my books, my little 
library which I so much value, that, as you know is made up 
of choice things in poetry, science and language. You remem- 
ber what an unusually clever woman Mother was, interested 
in heaps of things, but never losing sight of the stern realities 
of life, even when she was buried in principles." 

"And do you think you are like her?" 

"How should I know, pray. I'm sure I don't know whom 
I'm like," said she looking up with one of her engaging smiles. 

"You are very Celtic, that I know" said he turning around 
as if examining some folklore. "You were always a curious 
ethnological study to me." 

"Ah! that's it? That's the point of view from 
which you study my character — highly gratifying — 
too awfully prigish, however. Haven't you come out of that 
dense atmosphere yet? Do you remember when you lived 
with us during mother's life-time you grew so pragmatic, you 
took upon yourself the government of the entire family?" 

"Gaynore ! How unkind !" 

"Yes, it is really so, we used to call you what Ben Jonson 
calls a prig — a fine pragmatic but nevertheless you helped im- 
mensely to make up the equipage of our life. You were a gener- 
ous 'boarder-lodger,' that's the word. I've taken on these Amer- 
icanisms you see and can't get back to my original word." 

"Yes ; it was the happiest time of my Hfe when as a student, 
my mother and I, lodged in your mother's house at — . This out 
burst of memory on your part Gaynore, makes me laugh out- 
right. You were a mere child in those days." 

"We used" continued she, "to take you shopping; do you re- 
member ? And you would haggle over the price of a commodity 
and you would linger over curious and odd things exhibited by 
the people in front of the shops, until as a child I would become 
so impatient that I would cry out : 'Do make him hurry ; why 
does so rich a man care about trifles.' " 



13 



Lawson laughed again. "Do you know I was hated awful- 
ly for my luck in those days — and therefore I tried to be ac- 
tive, systematic, and diligent. I should have been skilled in 
state affairs and in the law — should have been a young barris- 
ter if all that crash had not come to our family. A chaise with 
a large seat and sweep of dash-board in front and a groom sit- 
ting with folded arms on the small seat, is no longer mine, Gay- 
nore, but my head is still my own. If I was saucy in those 
days; if I was a ''prig" the prigishness has all gone, all disap- 
peared with the dash-board. It does not matter much — no one 
knows me here nor cares anything about me and I hold my 
own counsel. But Je vis en espoir." 

"It's a wonder to me that you can content yourself outside 
of Europe. You have a double tie, your father was a Saxon 
and your mother English. If one must live in America surely 
New York is the best stopping place." 

"It doesn't very much matter to me — one hundred students 
to lecture to, sounds small to a — University man. To be sure 
I admire all that has been accomplished here in so short a time 
and if I had my eight thousand volumes collected by father and 
motherin addition to a lot more of inanimate things my heart 
would possibly throb faster until the right day comes — " 

"The right day for what ? What can that mean ?" said she 
with a little haughty toss of her head and dash of color in her 
cheek. 

"I am blue to-day Gaynore. because you have come to stay 
so short a time. Can't you persuade Miss Baxter to interest 
herself here in getting up statistics or something that will 
absorb her attention — the English come this way a great deal." 

"So my aunt told me." 

"Suppose" said he, "that you had to live as I do and feed on 
the immense distances lying between you and the world you 
love, and the people who inspire you, and the woman who is 
your truest friend — " 

"I simply would not do it," said she. 

"But to run risks for ones bread and butter is romatic love. 
How long does it last?" 

"That depends," said she. 

This fragmentary talk was broken into. Miss Baxter had 
rested sufficiently, and Lad come to join tliem. She had 
reasoned with herself that she had given her niece and "Felix" 
ample time to talk over deliberately the problem of the future — 
for Miss Baxter was a great mathematician and believed that 
human affairs could be regulated or reduced to an exact sci- 

14 



ence. Palms and oranges and sea breezes, beautiful Archi- 
tecture, she began to look upon with austerity, as to-morrow 
they must travel farther. 

Chapter X. 

Charles V^an Cortlandt had gone to Virginia to see his friends 
Homer Winslow and Louis Albermarle married — in fact he 
was "Best Man." Golf and Cricket, had momentarily given 
place to Deer Parks. Masterfulness of intellect and char- 
acter in Homer Winslow, a man reared in the habits of thrift 
industry, truthfulness and sobriety of thought of the simple, 
beautiful life of New England, coupled with the picturesque 
loveliness of old Virginia, had brought about a rhythm and 
an epoch which had left upon Charles Van Cortlandt's mind 
a deep impression. With an apologetic bow for returning 
to California so soon, and forsaking the keen intelligence of 
his Yankee friend and the charming home of Winslow's 
young bride, he felt himself more than ever in his life a 
true descendant from the Colonists of Royal Lineage — and 
he bade the Lord Proprietors of Virginia a reluctant adieu. 
"Winslow found a lovely wife," said he to himself as he travel- 
ed over the Blue Ridge ; "It's a pity, however, that she has been 
taught to believe that the study of Genealogy is of so much 
importance. 'The Grange,' in Yorkshire, from whence her 
people came, people to be sure from whom sprang great pat- 
riots in the Revolution and five Presidents of the United States, 
if one believes such things — cannot give her in sober moments 
any happiness especially with a husband like Homer Wins- 
low, who is always studying the economic and social future 
of our country — but then it's none of my business, how they 
get along. The wedding was fine and I've had a splendid trip." 

Part II. 
Chapter XL 

"* * * * And yet you said I am very Celtic. You 
seem to forget that the original machinery of Welsh tales 
was magic, and the supernatural, according to my mind, should 
be a magic machine able to work supernatural results." 

"What is it," questioned Lawson to himself, "which really 
prevents me from falling in love with Gaynore? or am I in 
love and don't know it? It is doubtless only friendship, a 
solemn thing, and he looked up into the azure blue of the sky 

15 



in quizical way and down into the deep bladed grass. I 
suspect it was rather Quixotic on my part Gaynore to come 
to America. Have you so regarded it?" 

In order to finish a paper for an EngHsh Review, full of 
heavy material — statistics, etc., Miss Baxter had decided 

to return by way of after the trip she and Gaynore took to 

the San Gabriel Valley. "Ever since that terrible experience 
on the 'Normania,' " Miss Baxter remarked, ''I have felt almost 
Hke a tottering wall and a broken hedge." A life full of ob- 
jective interest so apart from masculine help was certainly an 
example of what a single woman can accomplish — and Gay- 
nore rarely ever addressed a word to Miss Baxter unless it 
was prefaced by "my respected aunt." 

"After the life of indulgence Felix had as a boy" said Miss 
Baxter, "he deserves great credit for what he has accom- 
plished. Have you and he had satisfactory conversations 
Gaynore ?" 

"Very incomplete" replied Gaynore in an absent tone of 
voice. 

"Dear me !" said Miss Baxter, "how curious young people 
are." 

Benevolent, clever, interested for the good of the whole ; 
taking broad and generous views of Institutions, of Churches, 
of Causes, Miss Baxter had been able in her life to realize 
excellent results from her untiring energies. "And here I 
am" soliloquized Gaynore, "hoping to be like her, and yet 
bound up with one selfish idea." 

At the Raymond Hotel, or wherever Gaynore and Miss 
Baxter appeared, there was an immediate interest felt in them, 
for their name was that of a distinguished family, and people 
at once wished to become acquainted with them. Gaynore's 
unique humor and conversation gathered crowds about her in 
drawing rooms and verandas, while dear, venerable Miss 
Baxter's opinions, were distributed like grains of gold dust 
among the various people whom they met. A truly wise and 
pious woman — interested in every one, never despising the 
good opinion of the nonentities, "they are the majority" she 
would say, and so it was that she learned something from 
every one and every thing in her travels. She was a stately 
woman in carriage, handsome, she wore the white hair puffed 
on either side of the full temples, a benevolent expression, a 
clear penetrating eye protected by heavy eyelids. And she 
stood to all, as a woman who had enriched her day and gener- 
ation, instead of impoverishing it. 

16 



Mr. Lawson found Gaynore in a very different mood after 
their return from the San Gabriel Valley. He wondered if 
she had taken exception to the fact that he had not introduced 
her to his friends. ''You have not met any of the people here. 
I want you and your aunt to meet Charles Van Cortlandt and 
Senator and Mrs. Bowman. You must know Gaynore that 
all people of your race are conceded to be charming. You for 
instance have a fine candor. I wonder what you would think 
of the American type of young womanhood. I must introduce 
you to a young acquaintance of mine who by the way is a real 
beauty. You will admire her for that. She is Huguenot ex- 
traction, black hair, dark blue eyes, ruddy complexion, exquis- 
ite figure and clever enough ! although not as we English un- 
derstand it — " 

'I'm glad I shall leave you in such good company." 

"Perhaps she will not care for a 'prig.' " 

This tantalizing way of talking seemed too much for Gay- 
nore, but she restrained her tears, and remarked, "There are 
other 'prigs' who have married well." 

"But how to live without you, Gaynore, is a question which 
has puzzled me always, and yet I concede that a man should 
feel a certain blindness, fascination to be what people call "in 
love." Our friendship has always seemed fike the light of day 
to me — there never was any moon shine in it." 

"Perhaps the Huguenots may be able to bring out the moon 
shine," she quickly replied. 

Felix looked at Gaynore searchingly — "Did you tell me that 
Miss Baxter is determined to leave to-morrow ? How good it 
was of her to come and bring you — " 

"Yes: indeed, it was good! But having not yet acquired 
the art of making verse — only a sort of literary apprentice — 
you may bring " 

"And pray what have you done, you boastful, ambitious girl. 
When I saw you at Newham you were going to set the world 
on fire as your uncle thought, actively, zealously, officiously 
you had taken his rod of metal, the pen, and tried to make a hole 
for the match in blasting — but I have not heard the sound 
of the blast yet — ? 

"If I could have lived under your inspiration I might have 
accomplished something. You know the original machinery 
of the Welsh tales was magic." Gaynore hated herself as 
she said these things. She had never intended to give her ut- 
most soul away like that. 

17 



"My head was always in books," she continued evidently 
embarrassed. ''I was a dreamy child — with a keen interest in 
books that was all — " 

"And I was a jolly little chap, was I not?" said he looking 
at her with a sad expression. "Considered myself a man when 
I entered college — why surely and at the summer Inns when 
we all went off I was a great swell. But I had no small talk 
for the girls. I always made fearful blunders. It didn't mat- 
ter for women get tired of men who start out to amuse them." 

"They used to say of me," said Gaynore, that as a child I 
had good traits but did not know how to make myself as en- 
tertaining as nature intended. I used to get up mornings take 
a glass of milk, a biscuit from the cupboard and go off with a 
book and be lost to the family all day until dinner. I was a 
non-descript, and people never judged me by the rules they ap- 
plied to others. They would say, 'poor little Gaynore! What 
a curious child she is !' " 

"But I," said Lawson losing himself in these recollections, 
"was excitable, full of good fellowship, fraternity spirit, so that 
all the boys liked me." 

"Ah, well," continued Gaynore, heaving a deep sigh. "I may 
yet be able to make my bread and butter ; my thoughts may 
yet run through channels of gold. A girl fresh from New- 
ham, fond of climbing Mountains and reading Browning, ought 
to make her mark in the world." 

"Unless you have to come down from the Mountain and 
run a street car as many men have had to do." 

"Oh ! don't be so horribly despondent ! Marry the rich Amer- 
ican girl and live in luxury ; stop reading Shelley ; bring your 
wife back to England where she will be well received — Hark! 
the hour strikes for me to return to my aunt ; the bells of des- 
tiny are ringing the hour for us to sally forth — I triumph over 
my Saxon foe ! Adieu, George Felix Lawson, for evermore !" 

Chapter XII. 

It would be unjust to Gaynore to allow the reader to sup- 
pose that this dramatic adieu (all unpremeditated — the out- 
burst of long pent up feelings and even the language itself, 
the stored up gems of her Celtic literature bounding out in 
dramatic force) was monstrous and unnatural turn to her 
life. It was rather the climax of patient years of suspense 
and devotion to this one man's whims, and ever since he 
failed to wait for the coming in of the Normania she had de- 
termined to live in obedience to a heroic and secret impulse of 

18 .. 



a most individual character — the character of Gaynore de 
Morois. She did not suppose that the wisdom of it would 
ever be clear to Felix or to her venerable aunt, but as the 
philosophers say — "self-trust is the essence of heroism mea- 
sured by the contempt for . Her determination was 

not the result of anything Mr. Lawson had said, or had not 
said, but because of his general manner working upon her 
own state of mind, setting desolating thoughts in action. The 
awful feeling came over her that she was an offering to she 
knew not what — that wretched phantom of doubt to do what 
she had now done was the only way to conquer. This was 
the means in her power, and she would henceforth foster a 
contempt — would shun — . 

But Lawson's nature took on quite different symtoms af- 
ter this electric shock which he had certainly experienced in 
Gaynore's dramatic adieu. He had never before felt free from 
the sacred friendship and influence which had warped his 
opinions on a large degree since his boyhood. Shortly after 
the abrupt departure of Gaynore and Miss Baxter, questions 
like these began to take form in his mind : "Why not selfish 
ease and pleasures instead of this mysterious solitude. Is it 
ignoble to marry a rich American girl and take life on the 
wing? There was too much of the Via Dolorosa in Gaynore 
but Minnie Bowman is plausible, vivid, cheering! with good 
conceptions of life ; although she does not see the transcend- 
ent import, the greatness of the drama — as Gaynore did, yet 
possibly with her as my wife, I can learn to close my eyes to 
its startling import," and so he quieted his conscience. 

Chapter XHI. 

Charles Van Cortlandt, one of Fehx's friends, was of Penn- 
sylvania Dutch descent. By profession he was an Archae- 
ologist. Several men of the same profession of speciality had 
decided to make a trip to Europe, more especially to Wales, as 
a good place to make some excavations if allowed; which they 
believed would result in astonishing Roman, Anglo-Saxon and 
Celtic relics. Mr. Cortlandt had been pleased to meet two such 
interesting and superior women from Wales, as Miss Baxter 
and Miss Gaynore De Morois — to whom Felix Lawson had 
been so generous as to introduce him, during their brief visit 
to California. He was much impressed by the unusual in- 
formation and intelligence Miss De Morois showed in conver- 
sation. 

19 



She is a gem ! a product of genuine stuff, — 'the purest ray 
serene' I've ever beheld. And he found himself lost in the 
contemplation of Patroons, Palatines and other different 
groups of people on the globe, tribes, nations, who had con- 
tributed to the American Commonwealth. As to Miss De Mo- 
rois from the first time I ever heard her talk, she was a com- 
plete fascination to me. I do not wonder Felix Lawson has 
loved her all these years, for they say that is the fact. These 
were thoughts filling ]Mr. Cortlandt's mind frequently. One 
day meeting each other on the Campus, Cortlandt cried out : — 
''Hallo, old fellow, — here you are upon my word, but how 
haggard you look.'' "I thought," continued Cortlandt, "you 
would be domesticated by this time." 

"What's the matter with yow," said Felix, "not half seas 
over, I hope." 

"Now see here Felix, you are not like yourself, since your 
friend Miss De Morosis went away. Where are they now, may 
I enquire?" 

"Ah," said Felix, "the death of Miss Baxter has surely un- 
nerved me." 

"Miss Baxter dead? You amaze me!" exclaimed Cort- 
landt, "How dreadful !" 

"They went from here," said Felix, "to visit the Swancotts, 
relatives in Pennsylvania, and dear Miss Baxter was taken 
ill suddenly, only living a few brief hours, in which time 
she made requests, and that to my mind flic saddest, of all ; 
that she should be buried there where she died." "Think 
of it, when Wales should and would doubtless have reared 
a monument to her, so eminent was her work." 

"It is a terrible blow to all who knew her," he continued, 
"I was not aware of the fact that they had relatives in 
America," said Cortlandt, "And in Pennsylvania, you say?" 

"Yes, these people" said Lawson, "are grandchildren of 
one of the original Welsh missionaries who pushed West- 
ward, it is said; preached to the Indians and had an eye at 
the same time for the broad and wooded acres; and while 
talking to the red man around his camp fire, of his hunting 
grounds, etc., actually in the course of time purchased 
20,000 acres of their land, and established a Welsh colony 
just after the Revolutionary War." 

"You know the Welsh served well during the Revolution," 
said Felix. 

"I have always heard," said Cortlandt, "they are very clan- 
nish people, claiming the right to think under all conditions, 
great love of liberty — is it not so?" 

20 



It was the first time Felix had spoken to any one of his 
friends since they left, and the effort he made to command 
himself told upon his already haggard countenance. Cort- 
landt wondered more than ever, — if Miss De Morois had 
gone back to Europe — but he dare not make such a break 
in his friendship with Felix as to inquire. 

Chapter XIV. 

It was one of our largest cities toward which Gaynore 
travelled on that Sunday of which we have already heard, — 
For she could not content herself in the surroundings where 
her noble aunt had died. The words of the minister rang in 
her ear, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; saith 
the Spirit; they rest from their labors and their works do 
follow them." She determined to go off to herself, where 
no one could witness her grief. She found important busi- 
ness letters, letters of condolence, family letters, awaiting 
her, to be answered. Trying to brace her mind to what was 
before her, she replied to one in the following manner. — 
Dear Sir : — ''You write of my aunt's death, for whose loss I 
am so much concerned, however am glad to find she has 
left her representatives in so good condition. 

**As to my father's children, we are but two remaining, my 
self and sister who lives in London and who has diildren. She 
married a Mr. of Kavenamluch, — a gentleman of plen- 
tiful fortune. I give thanks for the kind offer of service in 
my affairs but as Mr. Carnavonshire will undertake the care 
of them I need not trouble you but remain, 

Respectfully, 

Gaynore De Morois. 

The call from her uncle and sister to return to England, 
was imperative; so out of the disenchantment; out of the 
depths ; out of the disillusion of human affairs ; she called 
loud to her soul, her heart, "awake ! arise, put on thy strength 
Oh daughter of Zion," and push toward conclusions, every 
grain of strength must be harvested. To be well born and 
well educated is a great inheritance; and withall to feel the 
poetic fire which stirs the hearts of people. The muses 
have played around dear uncle and created for him a glorious 
life. Aunt's splendid standards made the goal as light of 
pursuit as the eternal light which shown upon her face when 
she repeated in that supreme moment: — Ah — never shall I 
forget it: 

21 



*'And broader and brighter, 

The gleam flying onward, 

Wed to the melody, 

Sang thro' the world; 

And slower and fainter, 

Old and weary, 

But eager to follow, 

I saw whenever, 

In passing it glanced upon 

Hamlet and City, 

That under the crosses 

The dead man's garden, 

The mortal hillock, 

Would break into blossom; 

And so to the land's 

Last limit I came — 

And can no longer. 

But die rejoicing, 

For through the Magic 

Of him the Mighty, 

Who taught me in childhood. 

There on the border, 

Of boundless Ocean, 

And all but in Heaven, 

Hovers the gleam," 
"Then if uncle and aunt have been so transported in 
thought, cannot I become the champion of ideas some day?" 
said Gaynore, to herself trying in some possible way to com- 
fort herself for all she had lost. "Who will be on shipboard 
I wonder? Who to take her place, in my desolate heart? 
The Celts who figured in fairy land and got the cup of truth 
and the singing branch, uncle, used to tell me, first, went to 
sleep. Possibly when I awake I shall better understand." 

Radnor, the home of Gaynore De Morois, was situated in a 
wooded country in the north of Wales, surrounded by the 
natural growth of trees which Wales possessed away back. 
To the majority of people it would have been gloomy but 
not to the De Morois family who had abundance of brain 
power and largeness of heart. It was near the Snowdon 
range whose highest altitude is said to be 3571 feet,and the 
rocks around Radnor were covered on their surface with a 
hard gritty, slaty material, while the soil was only good for 
pastoral purposes. Indeed one would find interbedded with 
this slatey condition sometimes lava and volcanic ashes. The 
greenstone, quartz and porphyry and old red sandstone were 

22 



used in making ornamental shawl pins and other ornaments 
worn by the Welsh women. All these specimens, even the 
sea shells, had been carefully collected b ythe poet uncle and 
placed in a large cabinet in the home. This piece of furni- 
ture in addition to a small pipe-organ, built into the house 
from cellar up to parlor, seemed to be the only touches of 
sensibiHty as far as a household art goes, which Radnor pos- 
sessed. It was woefully uninteresting but splendid character 
like the trees outside had developed within. 

Charles Van Cortlandt had found his way up this densly 
shaded avenue, one day, soon after Gaynore's return, for 
he and his friends had crossed on the same steamer, — happy 
accident of human affairs. She had the little curly headed 
blond niece in her lap, when he was announced. His heart 
bounded high as he heard her voice, — it brought so much of 
America back to him and gave expression, volubility once 
more to his thoughts. 

During the course of the long evenings conversation Gay- 
nore said — "I no longer understand the influence acting upon 
men's intellects nor upon womens' hearts. I once thouefht I 
did." 

They were talking almost into the silence of the night. 
Gaynore De Morois and Charles Van Cortlandt, — away up 
there in Wales. Cortlandt suddenly sprang from his seat 
and took a chair near Gaynore. 

"You spoke of influence — you are the influence," he ex- 
claimed, ''you are the life of others, of society, of me! My 
soul meltheth away for very heaviness unless you tell me you 
will be mine!" And with his hands Hfted to heaven, he 
plead with her to become his wife. He told her how he had ad- 
mired her and of all his struggles. 

And she — once more ''her maiden eyes divine" fell on the 
ground — and then she raised them for a moment, and smiled. 



23 



copyrighted by 

Mary McA. T. Tuttle 

1911 



LIBRfiRV OF CONGRESS 

■ii. 



018 482 152 



